


They Had It Coming

by accio_remus



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Fuckurt Trope Bingo, M/M, Minor Character Death - Brody, Minor Character Death - Cooter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7853626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_remus/pseuds/accio_remus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they felt justified. It got easier, and hotter, with every kill after that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Had It Coming

**Author's Note:**

> For the "murder husbands" square, though I didn't get them quite married off I think it's close enough. Way out of my comfort zone, so be gentle.

It started out almost innocently. The first time they killed someone it wasn’t exactly self-defense, but to them, it was justified. Puck had seen the bruises on Coach Beiste and there was no way he was going to sit around and let that asshole treat her like that. 

The problem was that while he had the muscle to pull it off, he was also sure he didn’t have the brains to stay out of jail. He needed help, a partner, and he was pretty sure Hummel was exactly that kind of smart.  
He was right. Hummel hated any kind of bully and was immediately on board.

Kurt made sure that Coach was at a player safety training in Cleveland with a hundred alibi witnesses, but not before he successfully cat-fished Cooter using a disposable cell phone. When the big lug showed up at what “Patti” claimed was a romantic river overlook Puck was ready with the revolver he’d bought with a fake ID the last time they had a gun show at the fairgrounds. They marched that asshole to the edge, Kurt zip-tied his hands and feet and Puck gave him a solid kick in the ass to knock him into the rushing waters below. Kurt stomped the cell phone he’d used under one perfectly polished boot before throwing it into the river as well. 

When Cooter’s body washed up a week later the police had no leads and Coach Beiste had a nice bit of life insurance money. 

Nationals and graduation came and went, and while they were friendlier than they had been before neither of them ever acknowledged what they’d done that night. When he and Kurt left Lima for opposite coasts Puck figured that was the end of it. At least until Kurt called a couple of months later. 

When Kurt found out Brody had been not only sleeping around on Rachel, but servicing paying clients with no concern for what diseases he could be passing on to his girlfriend he was furious. He had his phone out and was arranging for Puck to fly to New York almost before he realized what he was planning. 

It was so much easier the second time, and not just because Brody Weston was weaker and even dumber than Cooter had been. New York was not Lima, muggings happened all the time. 

All Kurt had to do was play on Brody’s ego and ask for some late night acting lessons. Kurt’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly known for being safe. Brody had only gone a couple of blocks on his walk home when a guy with a mohawk pulled him into an alley and bashed his head in with a tire iron. 

Kurt slipped into the alley just in time to see Brody hit the ground and he carefully slid Brody’s wallet and a roll of ill-gotten cash out of the dead man’s pocket. It was a robbery gone bad after all. Puck was breathing hard and was splattered with blood. Kurt was so turned on he couldn’t will his erection away no matter what not-sexy things he pictured. He managed to focus long enough to watch for cameras while Puck ditched the tire iron, wallet, and his bloody shirt in a couple different dumpsters, but by the time they got back to the loft he needed some relief. 

Puck went to take a shower and Kurt finally had some privacy. He nearly ripped his pants getting them off and sat on the bed wrapping a fist around his cock. He wasn’t going to last, but he didn’t care. In a few strokes he was done and collapsed across the bed trying to catch his breath when a voice interrupted him. 

“I could have helped with that,” Puck said, a towel wrapped around his waist and one hand on the curtain to Kurt’s sleeping area. 

Kurt scrambled to cover himself with a pillow. “What?” 

“This whole thing is hot as fuck, and you’re hot. When did you get hot?”  
Kurt just stared at him. “You can’t be serious. You’re straight.” 

Puck shrugged. “I had enough shit to put up with in Lima being poor. Do you think being pansexual would have helped? I’m not up for a long talk about our fucked up youth, if you want a piece of this it’s available.” 

“Maybe next time,” Kurt said, and then froze. It struck him that he’d not only suggested that he was going to have sex with Puck, but that they were probably going to keep killing people. 

“It’s a date,” Puck said with a snort. “I was thinking I might stick around for a while. If the couch is free.”

Kurt nodded before reaching into his discarded pants and removing the roll of bills he’d taken off Brody. “Here, pay your part of the rent with this. Rachel will feel safer with you here. She doesn’t have to know what you actually kept her safe from.” 

Over the next few months, Puck and Kurt were surprised to not only find themselves spending a lot of time together but becoming close friends as well. Living together was one thing, but both of them were realizing there were now things in their lives they could only ever share with each other. Nothing had happened between them physically, but that all changed the week Finn almost died. 

The accident had been bad. Finn had been stopped at a red light when a drunk driver hit his truck nearly head-on. Finn’s legs had multiple breaks, not to mention several broken ribs, and various other injuries. Every law enforcement officer that saw the truck couldn’t believe that the driver had made it out alive. 

Kurt and Puck had flown to Lima with Rachel to see Finn as soon as they could. They visited Finn daily in the hospital, helped Burt move furniture and install a temporary ramp to make his recovery easier, and even pitched in with Glee club since Finn couldn’t. Soon it was time for them to go back to New York, but the man who nearly killed Finn, Bryce Marlowe, was never charged. When Burt used some of his political influence to look into the case he found out that the driver’s breathalyzer and blood tests had been “lost”. Convenient for the Lima PD since the young man’s father owned half of the city. 

That night when Rachel went to sleep Puck came into Kurt’s room. “We can make him pay.” 

“We need to take our time. It can’t look related,” Kurt said, his eyes as cold as ice. “It will take a while to make sure we can do it slowly, without leaving anything behind.”

Puck raised an eyebrow, “So what do we do while we wait?” 

Kurt took Puck’s hand and pressed it down on his already hard cock, “I have some ideas.” 

They waited, and they planned, and they fucked. Two months into waiting things got much easier when an unmarked envelope arrived with a typewritten note and a single car key. 

_Porcelain  
Shed off Rt. 12. Car with fake plates available as needed. Let justice be served. _

Kurt damn near had a panic attack when he saw it. How could she know? He knew better than to even speculate why she had an unregistered, unidentifiable vehicle in a shed somewhere.  
Puck pointed out that she couldn’t prove anything, and obviously didn’t want to. They immediately burned the note and updated their plan. 

Five months after Finn came home from the hospital they arrived in Lima in a rental car under a fake ID. None of their friends and family knew they were in town and they wanted to keep it that way. 

Kurt had been tracking Marlowe’s movements via social media from the computers at various branches of Brooklyn Public Library. He knew the guy liked to get plastered and bother the dancers at a place called The Landing Strip and that he always went home alone. They both knew the drunks in Lima tended to take the less traveled roads. 

They swapped their car for the safe one and slid the duffle bag they’d bought from a street hustler near Prospect Park into the backseat. Puck had bought the baseball bat off a couple teenagers in their neighborhood and the zip ties had been liberated from his job stocking shelves at a hardware store as had the generic tarp covering the trunk. Their clothes were from Walmart and would be burned in a small fire after they returned the ghost car to the shed. They took no chances. 

A few miles outside of town they waited for Marlowe to drive past. Puck crouched behind the car while Kurt, wearing a long wig and skirt pretended to be stranded on the side of the road as soon as their target approached. Sure enough, despite his impaired state or maybe because of it Marlowe pulled over to help. 

Kurt led him around the car and after checking to make sure the road was still deserted gave the signal. Puck grabbed the guy and flashed the gun forcing him into the trunk where they zip-tied his hands and feet. They dumped him in the trunk and drove to the large reservoir east of town. 

As expected the place was completely deserted, and nobody had ever thought to install security cameras. It was just water after all, and the county commissioners were always out to save a buck. 

They dumped Marlowe on the ground and Puck took out the baseball bat. “Daddy isn’t going to be able to save you now asshole.” 

“What’s going on?” Marlowe’s words were still slurred, confirming that he’d been driving while extremely drunk. Again.

“You nearly killed someone, someone special to us. And now you’re going to pay,” Kurt said calmly. “You nearly destroyed his legs.” 

Puck nodded and swung the baseball bat connecting with Marlowe’s right knee cap. They’d brought dirty rags to gag him with, but the bastard was so drunk he couldn’t even manage to scream. While Marlowe writhed on the ground moaning in agony Puck took another swing, this time to the left knee cap. 

“The ribs are easier,” Puck said, “if you want a crack at him.” 

Kurt nodded and took the bat. He had never really been so physically involved before and it was exhilarating. He pulled back and landed the bat solidly against Marlowe’s side. He heard a bone break and the rush made him weak in the knees. 

He took three more swings, mostly at the left side of the chest. He figured if CPR could be dangerous to the heart then so could having your ribs bashed in. Sure enough with a final drunken grunt Marlowe stopped breathing. Dropping the bat Kurt knelt to check for a pulse and when he didn’t find one he laughed gleefully. 

“Nice work babe,” Puck said, “how does it feel to actually do the dirty work?” 

“Like we should dispose of this piece of trash so you can fuck me over the hood of the car,” Kurt said, already removing the zip ties as not to be linked to Cooter’s death. It took both of them to move the truck tire from the backseat and tie it to Marlowe’s ankle before rolling it off the side of the reservoir and watching the limp body follow it. With any luck, it would never wash up. 

Puck did fuck him over the car, and then Kurt fucked Puck in the hotel much later that night. They didn’t know when the next kill would happen, but they knew it would, and they knew they would do it together.


End file.
